


Our Imperfect Condition

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Established Relationship, Feelings, M/M, PWP, Smut, Trans Character, Trans Leonard Snart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 19:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7374052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A late night romp between Mick and Len, with a dash of feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Imperfect Condition

**Author's Note:**

> i had intended for this to be part of a larger trans len/coldwave fic i plan to write, but it wasn't working right for the tone of that fic. so instead, have it as a little smutty oneshot! thanks to believesinponds for betaing! 
> 
> hope you guys like it!

Len bites at Mick’s lip with a growl. “What’re you waiting for, Mick?” He snaps as he winds his legs tighter around Mick’s sides. “ _Fuck_ me already.”

Mick grins and licks at the wound on his lip, a little swollen and tender from Len’s tendency to bite at the same spot every time they kiss. He obliges, though, takes his cock by the base and guides himself into Len’s slick, wet heat. He groans as he sinks in and relishes the soft warmth encasing his dick, revels in the sensations. He grinds forward, pushes deeper inside, swallows Len’s answering moan with a filthy kiss.

They don’t always fuck like this—face to face, Len on his back, Mick’s cock sliding into Len’s vagina over and over again—but every time they do Mick could swear he’s died and gone to heaven. He loves Len’s body no matter what: he loves the scars on Len’s chest and kisses them tenderly, he loves the way Len’s clit swells with arousal and how Len is practically leaking for him whenever they do this. Mick loves fingering Len’s ass open and fucking him that way, and loves eating Len out any way and any time he can.

There’s just something about _this_ , about being allowed into Len’s body in such a way that drives Mick wild. He can’t help it. Knowing he’s the only person who gets to touch Len, _feel_ Len this way is intoxicating and addicting.

“Mick, focus, fuck.” Len grips Mick by the nape of his neck and hauls him close. “Just fuck me already, Christ.”

“Mick’ll do just fine,” Mick snaps with a grin. It’s worth it even when Len slaps him affectionately upside the head. Mick thrusts harder, pulls back until just the tip of his cock rests inside Len’s body before thrusting in with one fell swoop. He keeps one hand steady on Len’s hip and the other braced on Len’s chest, teasing a nipple every thrust forward.

Len moans and rolls his hips for a better angle; his whole body twitching with delight each time Mick’s cock brushes over Len’s g-spot. “Mick, Mick, _Mick_.”

“S’right, Lenny, say my name,” Mick grunts as he pulls Len to meet every thrust. “Tell me how much you like being full of my cock.”

Len groans, less in pleasure and more in lust-tinged exasperation. “Enough with the porn talk, Mick, just _do it_.”

Mick laughs as he thrusts and keeps laughing until Len is snickering too.

They keep moving, writhing against each other lewdly as their bodies grow wet with sweat and precome. Mick drops a hand to Len’s groin and thumbs at his clit and puts just the right amount of dry pressure to hit all the right nerves. He rubs in time with his thrusts, pushing forward and driving Len into his touch each time. Mick presses his elbow to the bed beside Len’s head to hold himself up and watch as Len comes undone.

“Come for me, babe, come on my cock,” Mick murmurs, knowing Len is too far gone at this point to protest the corny dialogue. It gets Mick off, and it gets Len off even if he won’t admit it. “Wanna feel you come around my cock, feel how wet you get.” He rubs his thumb faster and just a little rougher over Len’s clit until Len’s body starts to tense. His chest heaves and his breathing seizes rhythmically. His whole body goes taut and the walls of his vagina clench around Mick’s cock as he comes, body pulsing with pleasure.

It wrings Mick’s own orgasm from him like it always does and Mick pushes forward in a last thrust before spilling his come inside Len. It’s filthy and dirty and they could use condoms if they really wanted to—they just don’t. Mick likes the lack of latex, likes the feeling of Len hot and wet around him and likes the feeling of coming inside Len even more. Len likes it too, if the way he shivers is anything to go by, though Mick has never actually asked why Len doesn’t mind the lack of protection.

“Mick, you’re thinking too much.” Len blinks at him sluggishly, pleasantly, after their orgasms have passed. “If you’re not going to lay down the least you could do is clean us up.”

Mick rolls his eyes with a grin. “Alright, _boss_ ,” Mick taunts. He pulls out slowly and watches intently as his softening cock slides from between the lips of Len’s vagina. It’s a hell of a sight, the mixture of Len’s come and his own leaking out, nearly hot enough to get Mick hard again. He puts the thought away though, focuses on the task at hand and getting them both cleaned up.

Mick slips off the bed and into the attached, miniscule bathroom of their room on the Waverider. He grabs a washcloth and scrubs himself down first, then grabs and wets a fresh one before returning to Len. By the time he gets back to the bed, Len is dozing softly and Mick takes in the sight with a smile.

He wipes first at the pools of sweat on Len’s skin—in the dips of his collarbone and hips—then at the come that’s sticky on his groin and between his thighs. Once he’s cleaned up most of the mess, he pokes at Len’s side. “C’mon, Lenny, y’know you gotta get up n’take care of that before you go to sleep.”

Len grumbles and his eyes flutter open again. He frowns without looking at Mick and his whole body tenses for a brief moment.

Mick feels bad—for all that Len is comfortable with his body more often than not, there are moments like these that remind Len far too vividly of everything he hates about it. Nine times out of ten, Len is perfectly fine with his body, happy and confident. But there’s always that single time that rears its head every so often: that time when Len remembers exactly what’s between his legs and the hassles that come with it.

“C’mon, I’ll even carry ya,” Mick offers. He holds out his arms to Lenny and isn’t hurt when he’s waved away.

“No need, Mick, I can do it myself.” Len swings his legs off the bed and shivers. When he stands, Mick watches more come dribble between his legs and bites back a request for a second round. It’s a tough urge to keep in check, but Mick manages. “Are you staying with me tonight?” Len asks as he slips into the bathroom.

Mick looks at the bed and the fairly noticeable wetspot in the dead center. “How about y’stay with me? I’ll throw your sheets in the wash n’we can sleep in my bed.” He starts to gather up the dirtied sheets without waiting for a response. He does it to occupy himself while Len cleans himself a little more thoroughly, takes care of his body the way it needs after sex. By the time Len emerges from the bathroom, Mick has the sheets crumpled up in his arms.

Len grins and stands naked in the doorway. Mick catches his eye for a moment, and they simply stare at each other. There’s always a brief handful of seconds like this each time they come together between the sheets. It’s not exactly awkward, but it’s tense and a little uneasy. Mick simply nods—feels ridiculous to not do _something_ —and turns on his heel to the door. He’s still naked and a little damp from his wipedown, but it’s late enough he figures he won’t run into anyone in the halls.

As he slips into the washroom a few doors down from his and Len’s room, Mick contemplates their mini staring contest just a few moments prior. Something like it always happens, and Mick knows it’s because they’re both too stubborn to really talk about what’s between them. They’ve been too damn stubborn for nearly thirty years, and Mick doesn’t exactly see that changing any time soon.

They fuck, they make out, they share a bed more often than not even when they don’t have to; it’s just how they’ve always been. Granted, the whole ‘fucking’ part of the equation didn’t really pick up until Len was nineteen and got top surgery done after years of saving, and was finally comfortable with someone—with _Mick_ , and _only_ Mick—seeing his body. But since that night, they’ve always come together in the same ways and they’ve never spared the time to talk about it. They’ve had plenty of chances; they just never have.

Mick is reluctant to call them fuckbuddies or anything so crude, but they’re definitely not _dating_. Lovers, Mick supposes, would be an adequate term; someone younger might call them friends with benefits, but he and Len are so much more than friends that doesn’t feel right either. Mick shrugs to himself as he loads the sheets into the washer. It doesn’t really matter what he and Len are, he guesses. He likes whatever they are and as long as that doesn’t change anytime soon, Mick is happy.

“You’re thinking too loud, _again_ ,” Len drawls from the doorway.

Mick turns to stare and isn’t surprised to see Len has mostly dressed. He mourns the loss of Len’s nude body—arguably one of his all-time favorite sights—but knows why Len never walks around shirtless. It’s less the scars that curve expertly around his pecs, faded and pale as they are; it’s more the scars left by Lewis Snart over the years, and Len’s reluctance for anyone else to see them. Mick understands.

“Jesus, Mick, how do you even have that much brainpower after sex?” Len teases with a half-yawn.

“Maybe y’losing your touch, Lenny.”

Len rolls his eyes and motions for Mick to follow him back to the bedroom. “I find that hard to believe, all things considered.”

Mick laughs and crowds Len against the door when they reach their bedroom again. “You’re right,” Mick murmurs as he seals his hands at Len’s waist.

“Usually am,” Len agrees. “C’mon, we should sleep.” Len taps the wall and the door slides open. He grips the back of Mick’s neck and drags him along, not that it takes much. Mick follows Len easily, happily even. He grabs at Len’s clothes—a simple long sleeve shirt and loose pajama pants—before they tumble into his bed together.


End file.
